“Now will you open the box?”
She knew what he was offering her. There was a portrait of his mother in the parlor in her wedding gown. She wore pearls and emeralds at her ears and around her neck, and a wedding ring that had at its center a diamond that had come down through the Belmont line. That very ring was in the small box he wanted her to open and then to put on her hand. When the photographer came to take their portrait, Cap would want it in plain sight, because the ring made all things clear in ways words could not.
Sophie said, “I am so angry at you.”
He inclined his head, but there was no confession forthcoming.
“When did you first write to Dr. Z?ngerle?”
He waved a hand, as if the question could be shooed away like a fly. “A year ago.”
“What a lot of time to waste when every minute is so precious.” She made her voice firm.
His gaze was sharper now. “Last year at this time would you have agreed to go to Switzerland as my wife?” And then: “You know you wouldn’t have. So will you wear the damn ring, or not?”
Sophie opened the box and looked at this ring she had never thought to wear.
“I know,” Cap said. “It’s truly hideous.”
The ring his mother and grandmother had worn had a yellow diamond as its centerpiece. The stone was set against foil on a wrought silver band, with sapphires to either side that only made the stone look more yellow.
Sophie bit her lip and then laughed out loud.
“I could have the stone reset,” he said.
“Do you think it would make a difference, really?”
He lifted a shoulder in agreement.
Any number of women would put this ring on without hesitation and declare it the prettiest thing ever made by man, but tomorrow their fathers would look up from the morning paper and say, Cap Verhoeven is going to marry that mulatto woman.
She slipped the ring onto her finger, her hands chapped and a little swollen, as they always were. Like gilding a wooden nickel, as Mrs. Lee would put it.
Cap’s ring pinched, just slightly.
? ? ?
WHEN ANNA CAME into the dining room on Saturday evening Aunt Quinlan had already taken her place at the head of the table, with Margaret and Sophie to either side. The little girls, Margaret told her in a subdued tone, had had their supper and baths, and were already settled for the night. From the looks of things, there was an argument going on.
Anna said, “You know how I dislike coming in on the middle, so start again please. At the beginning. What are we arguing about?”
“We aren’t arguing,” Aunt Quinlan said in a tone that said just the opposite.
“This isn’t about a corset for Rosa, is it?”
Somehow it was the right thing to say, because Aunt Quinlan and Sophie both gave a startled laugh. Margaret continued to frown into her soup bowl.
“No,” Sophie said. “It’s not about that at all.” She drew in a deep breath. “I saw Cap today. We’re going to Switzerland.”
Anna got up, went to Sophie, and hugged her hard enough to make her protest. She picked up her cousin’s hand and looked at the ring.
“You must really love the man if you’re willing to wear this ring. It’s awful.”
“I know,” Sophie said, grinning.
“Agreement on all points?”
“With some very small concessions, on both sides. Anna, you’ll break my ribs.”
“Does his family know?”
“The announcement will be in tomorrow’s paper, but Cap’s aunts and cousins will already have received word by messenger before that point.”
“This is no surprise to you,” Margaret said to Anna, her brow pulled down in displeasure.
“Of course not.” Anna hugged Sophie again and returned to her place, where she fell into her chair with an unladylike plop. She couldn’t stop smiling. She smiled through the kisses and hugs and tears; she smiled especially when Mr. Lee came into the dining room—something he almost never did, despite many invitations—and took Sophie’s hand between his own two hands and wished her every good thing.
“We must have wine to toast the happy couple,” said her aunt. “All of us.”
“This is hardly something to celebrate without reservation,” Margaret said irritably.
“Margaret,” Aunt Quinlan said. “Two young people who love each other are getting married. That is something to celebrate.”
Margaret waited until Mr. Lee had left the room, shifting uneasily. Anna thought of suggesting to her that her corset was too tightly cinched, a childish impulse that made her want to laugh anyway.
Before Margaret could get started with her questions, Anna asked what seemed to her the crucial question. “Margaret, why should you object?”